Freedom Fighter
by HeroInTraining
Summary: When child Nicolette Storm joins the military because of her powers, wanting nothing more than being remembered, she realizes she's in for the adventure of a lifetime. Finding out she has a family is just a bonus. Rated for World War 2/HYDRA violence.
1. What the Army Needs

**Freedom Fighter**

**What the Army Needs**

"I need YOU for the U.S. Army!" a man dressed up as Uncle Sam shouts at us.

I walk past to a peddler. There's a barrel of fruit. Mmm. I sneak behind him and grab an apple. I run away. The man won't catch me. Nobody can. Not even Mistress Elas. There's nobody to stop me from eating the apple in a few seconds. I'm that hungry. Ever since I left I've been hungry. It's only been a few weeks. You get used to it. Other kids are never hungry. Rich kids. Lucky ducks.

_Boom!_

Thunder. That's just swell. I run to an alley. It has an unused doorstep. It doesn't really work, but it's better than nothing. I have to wait out the storm. Cripes, it's cold. I try to stay warm with a ripped towel. Eventually I fall asleep. When I wake up there's no rain, but my fingertips hurt. How strange. Maybe…maybe I have a disease. How will I see a doctor? Most are on the front lines. Those that are still here only tend to city slickers or families with really sick children. Not orphans.

At the orphanage they never told me anything about how I got there. They were too worried about Hitler. Everybody is, I suppose. I actually had to read a file about me. Sneaking in was easy. Sneaking it out was hard. The orphanage accepts many young boys and girls a month. I wasn't important enough for them to notice me. I'm not smart, or athletic, or talented in any way. The only thing I was in the groove with was causing trouble. Often times I would frolic into a room, trip over something, and crash to the floor. In fact that's how I left. The commotion was too much, so I threw a stool at Mistress Elas and ran away. The thing is, there were no stools in the room. That made them angry.

For about a month now I've been living on the streets. No hope of ever being adopted. All the men are away; all the women are at work. All the kids are worried about their parents. Looks like I'll raise myself, maybe join the army. At least that would be interesting. Better than listening to fake Uncle Sam's and attending sermons. If there is a God out there, please help me. I'm hardly what you could call religious, but there's nothing else to do. Just that and designing things. And even then there's still plenty of time spent watching passerby. The one thing I ask for, God, is to make myself make a difference. Anything at all, so long as I leave this world with my name still spoken of past the funeral. Please.

The benches are all wet. I find one in the sun and lay down. My fingers still hurt. Not to mention my mind is buzzing with things I shouldn't know. Like why that boy hit his friend. Creepy. My stomach is growling again. Where's the nearest bakery? Oh yes, it's on 25 Street. I run to Smith's Baked Goods and grab a loaf of bread. Nobody notices until I trip over a cat. It hisses, I make a run for it. To help me a sparkly red dog chases the worker away. While I run I accidently bump into someone. "Pardon me, sir," I say over my shoulder, out of breath. I turn to run again, but the man holds his arm out. I can't worm out. The worker catches up.

"Thief!" she shouts.

I'm about to kick my way out when the blue-eyed, blonde-haired gentleman I bumped into speaks. "It's alright. I'll pay for it. Here you go." He hands the woman a coin.

Fully satisfied, the worker walks back to the bakery. "Gee, thanks, mister. I thought I was a goner."

"Don't worry about it. What's your name, if I may?"

Hmm. Mistress Elas did warn us about strangers. "Nicolette."

He looks like he understands why I only revealed my first name. "That was quite a spectacle back there."

"You mean with the chase?"

"Indeed. That was particularly bold. Whatever happened to the dog?"

"I don't know. It came to help, then went away. What's your name?"

"Steve Rodgers." He holds out his hand for a shake.

Why does that name ring a bell? I shake his hand and run to the nearest cluster of garbage cans. I practically inhale the bread. Then I begin drawing in some dust. Where have I heard that name before? Funny how it escapes me now. Absentmindedly (learned that word from church) I draw the one man in this war that will always be remembered. Without the A you can't tell it's him. Still. Anything to pass the time.

o8o

The rest of the week I try to find a job. Something about that man makes me want to do something with my life. Not many places will accept an eight-year-old. Even being a shoeshine girl would be fine with me. As long as it's a job that earns me some lettuce. On Sunday after church I sit in the cemetery where it's quiet. Perfect for thinking. When I leave I walk right into someone. "Pardon me," I say. It feels natural. Creepy.

"Why, hello, Miss Nicolette! Fancy meeting you here!"

Why does he-ooh. He's the man I met last week. The one that showed interest in the red dog. "Fancy that," I say slowly. _Is he following me?_

"Don't worry, this is merely coincidence," he laughs. _Can he read minds too?_

"Perhaps."

"Actually, Miss Nicolette, I would like to speak with you about a job opportunity."

I sit on the bench he leads me to. "What kind of opportunity?"

"A military position."

"But-but why would the army want an eight girl?"

"Lately we've been putting out advertisements for gifted people. That display last week with the dog convinced me you're gaining abilities. We need all the help we can get."

The offer is tempting. Lately I've discovered I can faintly make out people's reasons behind their actions, and this man seems genuine. Nothing to hide. And I have nothing better to do. "Alright. I will," I finally say. What do I have to lose?

"Great! We can leave now, if that's what you wish."

"Sure." I let Rodgers lead me through the streets to the outskirts of Brooklyn. Now that I'm hopefully on my way to a better life, I notice just how bad off some of the children really are. Dressed in ripped clothing, so thin you can see their ribs. _Is that how I look?_ Probably. I haven't looked in a mirror since I left Mistress Elas. Right when I begin to think we'll never get there, Rodgers leads me to a black automobile. This is the first one I've ever been in. It's kind of cozy. He climbs up front and tells the driver where to take us. This is Dillinger! If I had any friends to grandstand to I would. The same thought comes when we reach the place. It's an airport. Sometime later we board a plane bound for Italy. I fall asleep in my seat. Some of the other soldiers laugh. Whatever they say this is much nicer than cold steps.

o8o

I wake up to the plane landing. Italian countryside leads to a fence. It's an army base. Men walk around, talking and drinking probably coffee. When we go in more men train. One woman barks orders at them. Rodgers' eyes linger on her. Maybe they're a couple.

Tents filled with weapons are everywhere. A small airfield with a few airplanes is tucked away in a corner. In the center two men study a map. The dark-haired one I know from the newspapers. He's Howard Stark. The best weapons person here. The other looks familiar. I don't care. I'm probably the youngest person to ever step foot here! This is so neat! But how will I be of use? There's a reason why children, or girls for that matter, aren't allowed to sign up. Too much of a risk.

"Colonel Phillips, sir!"

I guess I was too busy staring to realize Rodgers grabbed my arm. Now we're in a tent with an older man. Looks harmless, able to kill you with a fork.

This "Colonel Phillips" looks up, scowling. "What do you want, Rodgers? Can't you tell I'm busy here?"

"Colonel, I found another possible agent. She shows signs of power and intelligence."

I snap to attention. Phillips inspects me. His face stays serious. "What's your name?"

Might as well reveal it. "Nicolette Storm."

He lets out a low whistle and focuses on Rodgers. "You know who this is. Remember the papers? Strange events occurring at Balan's Orphanage, all leading back to this girl. Not long after she runs away. The events stop. Everywhere this girl goes, events follow. I know I said we needed soldiers. But good soldiers, like Jim requested. Not crackpot kids from supernatural orphanages."

I don't think he knows I can hear him. Otherwise he wouldn't be talking like I'm not here. It would be rude to point that out though. He seems to be very high ranked.

Rodgers responds, "Of course I remember the papers. But we need people like her. You'll give her a chance, won't you?"

Phillips sighs, then stares at me. "One chance. That's all I'm giving you. First accident, you're out. Understand?"

"Yes sir!" I say with the most serious face I can muster.

"Alright, soldier. Get out of my sight before I change my mind."

I back up so quickly I almost knock over a pole. Luckily only Rodgers saw. "Sorry," I mouth. He grins. This guy seems nice enough. And down-to-earth, considering he's the world's only Super Soldier. Only a little fuddy-duddy. I walk outside into the bright sunshine. I squint. Now agents walk around toting guns. They must be preparing for battle. The only other man I recognize comes towards the tent. He pauses to stare at me. "What're you looking at?" I ask.

"Nothing. Just surprised to see a kid here, that's all. I'm Bucky Barnes, by the way."

"Nicolette Storm." When he hears my name an unusual look crosses his face. "Is there something wrong?"

"Not at all. You just look like someone I know."

"Oh." Maybe I imagined the look. So much is happening right now I wouldn't put it past me. At least I didn't trip over anything yet. Those guns look expensive. This leads to the whole operation. Especially all the talk about super-powered agents. They brought me in because of all the things caused by me. Those things might be risky. Backfiring at any moment. A huge risk indeed. Especially with my clumsiness. Any time now I might break something. And the minute I do, Phillips will make me leave. Maybe send me back to the orphanage. That can't happen! This is the first good thing in my life!

Another soldier interrupts my internal tantrum. "You there! Stop wandering and get where you need to go!" it's the woman I saw training people earlier. She has red hair cut in a bob and bright blue eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm new and have yet to be told what to do."

"If that's the case, then come with me." On our way to a small stage she introduces herself. "My name is Agent Carter and I will be training you during your stay. And you are?"

For the third time in twenty minutes, I introduce myself. "Nicolette Storm." My voice sounds odd compared to her clipped British one. No Italian in it. I take a seat on one of the hundreds of folding chairs. Looks like there might have been a concert here. I wait and try not to break anything. After a while a man on crutches hobbles over. Another introduction. This time I start it. "Hello, my name is Nicolette. What are you doing here?"

"James, at your service. Agent Carter told me I should teach you until the leg heals up. Figured it might be interesting."

He speaks with a southern accent. The look of disapproval goes away. This brings me back to girls staying out of battle. "Alright."

"Let's get started, shall we? What do you know so far about the basics?"

"Well…uh…I can write my name." _With the locket,_ I think, touching the heart shaped locket hanging from my neck. It's the only thing I have from Mama and Papa. The only thing in it is a tiny picture of a boy and a girl.

"My oh my. We have a lot of work to do. What to start with. How about writing your full name?"

In the dirt I scribble Nicolette Janice Storm. James squints at it. Okay, maybe my writing isn't the neatest. Next he has me spell. Then read. For the rest of the day James teaches me. At sundown they call us for supper. I sit in a corner, going back up often for more. Sometime later it's off to bed. The next few weeks James teaches me everything he knows. He also explains military things. Once his leg heals James leaves. My education doesn't end there. Agent Carter makes me learn hand-to-hand combat, how to use guns and other weapons, and the act of lying. Apparently a very useful tool. Eventually I go from getting knocked back by a pistol to firing a sharpshooter with ease. All the while Mr. Stark takes my measurements to make me a uniform. By the time it's done I'm able to fight without constantly getting beat down. Scary thing is, it's all natural. Agent Carter says that's good. I'm not sure.

Fighting gets easier as time goes on. On the one month anniversary of my arrival in Italy Mr. Stark orders me to go down to the main weapons cache. "I have a little surprise for you," he explains. "Your costume is finished. You haven't broken anything in a week either, which is a big accomplishment." He grins.

I blush. In the beginning they realized clumsy people shouldn't have guns. Every time I threw a punch or fired a bullet I broke something. Thank goodness Phillips never found out. Otherwise I would have left weeks ago. The whole time Phillips has been looking for an excuse to send me away. He hates me.

I grab the bundle of fabric and step into a deserted hallway to change. I leave my dress on the floor. It feels flexible. Much easier to run in than a dress. Easy to put on. Durable. Able to withstand battle and my failures. I step in and twirl. Stark holds up a mirror. Pouches go down the side for rations or ammunition. Holsters on the legs hold pistols, my best scores being for them. The suit itself is blue. White gloves and boots go up to my elbows and knees. They match the pouches. The bodysuit matches my eyes. A blue cowl covers my upper face. My red hair spills out. Very patriotic.

"You look like a flag," Stark says in his charming voice. Over my laughs, "It's made of carbon polymer fibers to protect you from bullets. Not like you're going to get hit, what with your powers and all. All vital body parts are extra protected. Those holsters will hold the average pistol. Not like you'll need them, either. The chest and head fibers are laced with adamantium, the closest thing we got to vibranium. Any questions?"

Really, I did not understand a word of what he just said. But instead, "No sir."

"Good. We'll meet again next mission."

With that, I leave. My yellow dress tucked under an arm, I head back to my bunker. They assigned me to the 107. Rodgers, I should probably now call him Steve, made sure I was placed here. He's overjoyed that someone like him (a human, not an android) made it past Phillips. Must be hard, being the world's only mutant test subject. Permanently alone. Well, there's always his sidekick, Bucky. Good thing he's gone. Lately Bucky has been treating me strangely. I have no explanation for it. He's off invading some HYDRA base. Better them than me. I'll probably be dead with the day. Only lasting because of my powers. Even then… Not a pretty picture.

Most of the beds in the bunker are empty, cold from lack of warm bodies. The past week or so many of the soldiers have left for battle. There's a small trickle, but not nearly enough to fill this place. I heard they even sent Namor the Sub-Mariner out. How in the world do they have contact with Namor? Certainly classified.

_Click!_ The door opens. _Clack!_ The door closes. Rodgers walks in. "Hello, Nikki," he greets me with his chosen nickname for me.

"Hi, Steve."

He gazes at me lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. "They're going to send us out tomorrow."

I switch from the ceiling to him. "Who is 'us?'"

"Bucky, you, and I. Jim might if he can."

"And we're going where?"

"A HYDRA outlet up north. Johan Schmidt is rumored to visit tomorrow. We'll be paying him a little visit."

"Johan Schmidt?"

"The Red Skull."

"Oh." Something to look forward to. Besides the abuse of aching muscles. Facing off against the Red Skull. Swell.

Rodgers adds in a whisper, "We'll be evaluating you to see if you're worthy to join the Invaders."

The Invaders? Oh my gosh! I practically worship the Invaders! They are the best superhero team the world will ever know. Members include Captain America, Bucky, the Human Torch, Namor, Spitfire, the Whizzer, and Miss America. Though Miss America died a while ago and the Whizzer is in no shape to fight. That leaves five. Namor doesn't always participate. That leaves four. Since I have these supernatural abilities, does that mean I'll join? Take the place and round out the numbers? Joining their ranks would guarantee a place in history books forever. But am I ready?

"Don't worry about it. Just do your best and try to stay away from the Red Skull. I would hate to see who would win."

I lie back down and stare at the ceiling. So many thoughts to sift through. Instead of dealing with them I go to sleep. Before I'm fully rested Rodgers wakes me and hands me a piece of toast. Then he orders me to get into costume. Maybe when we return I can add my own designs to it. It's too…formal. Not something a child would wear. Rodgers ushers me to a plane; Bucky and Jim are already in it. Mr. Stark and Agent Carter are up front. Phillips must be leading some other battle. Agent Carter briefs us as we fly north. It doesn't take long, so we spend most of the trip in silence. Snow floats down. Long after the briefing, a castle comes into view. Snowflakes turn into ice pellets. Wind makes them batter the plane.

Agent Carter hands me a parachute. I try to protest, but she counters with, "Until you're more confident with your abilities you will use things like parachutes and guns. We would rather you not die before your first mission."

That makes sense. If I were to be taken out today, they would lose one of their most powerful assets. One of their heavy-hitters. Not to mention Rodgers would only have Bucky. I follow the others to the hatch. Even Jim and Toro use parachutes, though they can fly. We float down. Ice stings my face. Some gets stuck in my hair. I land in a tree. Quickly I yank off the parachute and climb down. I accidently land on Toro. "Sorry," I whisper.

"It's okay," he whispers back.

Together we sneak past guards to make it inside. Since we are the youngest our jobs are simple: distract the guards and track Arnim Zola. The second one will probably take a while. Meanwhile the Captain, Bucky, and the Human Torch will search for the Red Skull. His reputation is fierce, so of course we can't go anywhere near him.

A guard shouts in recognition. Before he can call for assistance Toro sends a blast of fire at him. It burns his head in a way that makes him fall unconscious. "Nice work," I comment.

"Thank you," he jokes with a mock bow.

We keep moving forwards. Toro flies ahead on aerial recon. I can tell he's extremely eager to attack. I'm not entirely sure why. Some more guards run out, only to be met by bullets. Once they're down I sneak inside the building. More guards are there for me to shoot. All but one is taken down by my first wave. The one who dodged runs up and punches me in the face. Too late I throw up a shield. That's going to leave a mark. In retaliation I kick his knee, then his hip. He goes down. I move on. Guard tries to shoot me, I return the favor. By the time I meet up with Toro I'm sore and out of breath. This is much harder than the training exercises back home. Quoting Rodgers: "There's nothing better than first-hand experience."

Sounds of a rocket interrupt the quiet. I glance at Toro. _This can't be good._ We cautiously go in the direction Rodgers told us not to. The sounds of the rocket grow louder.

"Whatever could it be?" Toro asks.

"I have no idea." Before all the words leave my mouth Rodgers, Jim, and Bucky come running down the hall. "What's going on?" I shout to their backs.

"Run! The place's gonna blow!" responds Jim.

They're ahead before I can make a move. Toro gives me a push. That's enough to get me moving. I bolt out. Explosions rock the building. Fire creeps up on us. Already out of breath and slowing down, I completely stop when the smoke catches up. I have two options. Stop and die, or do the thing everyone tells me not to. I choose option two. What do I do? I use my abilities. To give my legs a break I sit on a floating chair. It carries me to the group.

Bucky looks back over his shoulder. "Nicolette?" He helps me off the ground. Then he jogs back to his place.

Hardly ten seconds after we leave the boundaries the whole place blows. Heat slaps out backs. The force makes me stumble. Toro does too. "Was that supposed to happen?" I ask hoarsely.

"No," Rodgers answers, glancing at us. "The Skull got away as well."

"At least the base was destroyed," Jim says in that robotic way of his.

"At least," inputs Bucky. His eyes keep flitting in my direction.

There's nothing left to do, so we call in transport. It gets here in minutes. On the way back Rodgers gives Agent Carter the situation. She tells us how everything connects. At least tonight will be a time of rest. Rodgers clears his throat while having an eye conversation with Agent Carter. He nods at her and directs his words at me.

"Nicolette, we have news for you."

_This can only mean one thing!_

"Your performance today indicates that from just a few weeks of instruction, you have learned much."

_He's really going to do it!_

"As of May 12, 1942, you, Nicolette Storm, are hereby a member of the Invaders."


	2. History Books

**History Books**

_Yes! I'm an Invader!_ "Thank you thank you thank you!" I squeal. I try to not do my happy dance, but some moves come out anyway. _Control yourself._ Taking a deep breath, I limit the dances to my head. The rest of the ride I thank Rodgers and Agent Carter. They smile. Now that I'm an Invader-I can finally say that!-I need a name better than Storm. Colonel Phillips will probably take care of that for me. I should come up with a name though just in case. All I need to do now is make those alterations. Then I should be set. One final thank you; exit the plane to some claps. Few soldiers remain, less than I thought there would be. Strange.

Phillips calls Rodgers and me over. To me, "Nice work today." To Rodgers, "You gave her membership without my approval."

"Sorry, sir. I thought she was ready."

"You better be right. If the footage Dallas took proves otherwise, you'll be in a heap of trouble."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Go to your barracks, there will be a briefing in the morning."

We go to the 107. Bucky is already there. I flop on my bed, dreaming of future battles. They will come. The next morning I sleep until late. Yesterday really was exhausting. Not feeling up to much, I decide, _This is as good a time as any to improve my costume._ In my bedside drawer a small tablet and pencil are hidden. I flip to a new page, start with a basic sketch. It's horrible. Still, I add some things, alter or take others out. Now that I'm an Invader, I need a name. Something patriotic. After all, it is World War II in Italy. Phillips may hate this… Freedom Fighter. Patriotic, catchy, something people will remember. All the makings of a good name.

"Rise n' shine!" a voice shouts. It sounds like Hodges.

His booming voice disappears as suddenly as it came. That's my cue to get ready. I jump into army slacks and make my way to the cafeteria. Turns out I missed breakfast and barely made lunch. Not good. I grab a bowl of soup, sit down at a table, and throw myself into the conversation. Before I can finish someone grabs my shoulder.

"Colonel Phillips wishes to speak with you," she says.

She leads me to a tent. Phillips is instructing a soldier what to type into a typewriter. They sound like death reports. K.I.A., M.I.A. Must have happened when we were taking care of HYDRA. We missed a lot.

Phillips glances up from his pacing. "Thank you, Rossman." The woman leaves. "Captain Rodgers tells me he made you an Invader."

"Yes, sir."

"And he gave you an honorary place in the Howling Commandos."

"Yes, sir."

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Sir, I have every intention of fighting hard to protect this country. It is not my fault that Captain Rodgers sees me fit to serve with them. So far the Invaders have done more than called for to defend the United States. I am extremely humbled to join their ranks."

"So be it. Do you have a name for yourself?"

"No, sir."

"Pick one. One that oppresses those damned Nazis."

"How about Freedom Fighter, sir?"

"Freedom Fighter, you say? Eh, it works. Better than some of the others. Now get to your briefing."

"Yes, sir." I leave the tent, turning my back on him reading off names. That man never wastes a minute. By now the way to the mission tent is familiar. Inside a map of the planet is tacked up on the side. On a large table in the center a close up of the battlegrounds is littered with red and white pawns. There are more red than white. Red represents Germany, white, America. We need to step up the pace. Tables are pushed up against the sides, each containing stacks of files. It must have taken the typist days, if not weeks, to finish. Only key people are allowed in. am I one of those key people? Must be.

Agent Carter doesn't even look up as she says, "Glad you could come, Miss Storm. You need to know what you're fighting. Stand with Mr. Barnes, you're the ones left."

Bucky is in a corner. I wave, not wanting to speak out of place. He waves back. Smiling, I tune in on Agent Carter's words.

"We will launch an attack on one of the last known HYDRA bases. Thanks to some highly placed individuals, we know for certain Joann Schmidt and Arnim Zola will be present. Take advantage of that and take them out. Beware of this: when they discover your presence, they will try to kill you. Any questions?"

Bucky has some. After they're answered we leave to prepare. We only have half an hour to make sure everything is perfect. Everything has to be, there's only a few second window to make it. If not, well, I'm not going to think about it. Quickly I go over my costume, making sure there's some water, basic medical supplies, and extra bullets and gunpowder. Maybe this time I'll chance using my powers. That would be interesting.

I yank on my costume and make my way to the weapons tent. The Howling Commandos are stocking up. I grab my favorite pistols. They fit perfectly in the holsters. After all, they were made for them. Then I pull my hair back, race to the meeting place. Not much later everybody else arrives. We enter the plane and chat about life until we arrive. We land on a mountain just long enough for us to get out. Then it flies away. A small ledge sits about 30 yards away from the frozen train tracks. At 16:04 sharp a train carrying important HYDRA information will pass through. We are to intercept that train and learn their latest plans. Later we shall go to the headquarters. If all goes well we should be done by midnight. Though there will probably be complications. Hardly anything goes smoothly. Especially in war.

"Alright, we have about two minutes before the train gets here," Dum Dum Dugan, the leader of the Howling Commandos, tells us.

Time to get to work. Jones sets up a cable to hook onto the ice. He throws it to the other side. It sticks. Sounds of a train ring through the frigid air. Steve, Bucky, and I pull on harnesses. The others will come on later, train noises get louder. That's our cue. Steve goes first. Remember, ten second window. Taking a deep breath, I attach my harness and jump. Cold wind makes my eyes water. I blink. In the time it takes me to blink the window is almost gone. _Darn it!_ I end up blasting it off and falling onto the locomotion. Ouch.

Steve is already inside, Bucky on his way. I'm about to go inside when I spot a man scurrying towards the front. His urgentness makes a bell go off inside my head. He's hiding something! Wait-he must be Arnim Zola! Can't let him escape. I push my way through the thick layer of snow. It's slow going, so I do a little field test: push it off to the side with a sparkling red shovel. Little tests like this and I'll be using my powers in the field in no time. This is actually fun. A lot more fun than pistols.

The shovel makes travel a lot faster. Above one of the cars I sense a HYDRA agent. He seems…murderous. Steve is nearby, too. Hopefully he will take care of it. I keep moving forwards. Finally I reach the front car. Zola is trying to make the driver listen to him, but it's not working. Maybe the holographic face on his chest is the problem. Or the bright yellow bodysuit. I don't know. I jump inside the warm car and hit the wall. "Knock knock," I say, swiftly jumping to punch the driver in the face. The element of surprise works. He's out cold. Zola tries to punch me, but I dodge it. Then I fake an uppercut and instead head butt him. He falls against the central console. Lights flash. Cars lurch faster. This can't be good. "Fix it," I demand.

"No, you have destroyed the controls," Zola responds haughtily.

Oh no. What have I done? My eagerness to take out the enemy overrode the need to keep the train running. Only one thing to do. After I tie Zola up with a rope I found, I open an outside door and lean out. Far off in the distance a sharp turn cuts through the mountain. At this speed we'll never make it. Taking a deep breath, I raise my arm and will a thin red layer around the train. It pulls tighter. Sweat soaks my costume. My breath gets more labored by the second. I can't do this! _Yes you can._ No I can't! _If you don't Bucky and Steve will die._ Tell that to my body! _Do you want to be responsible for their deaths?_ You try doing this! _Prove to them you're more than the average eight-year-old girl. You're an Invader now._ You know what? Fine!

I use all my willpower to pull the layer tighter. Slowly we lose speed. My fingers hurt. My muscles ache. Even my spirit hurts. Still, we lose enough speed and make the turn. Right before I hear a scream. Feel a sense of loyalty mixed with fear. The sound-it sounds like Bucky! Still straining, I turn my head just in time to see Bucky fall. A huge chunk of metal is missing. Suddenly the screams stop. He's-he's-he's dead.

"Noooo!" Steve and I shout in unison.

He can't be dead! It's not possible! Though the usual buzzing in my head is gone. _No…_ I fall backwards and fall unconscious from the strain.

o8o

What could be seconds, minutes, or even hours later, I wake up. I fight with my eyes-they refuse to open-until they finally blink. Dirt falls off my lashes. I'm lying face down on the ground. Lifting my head a little, I cough up dirt. Ugh. _What happened?_ My costume is filthy, covered with soil, ash, and blood. Aching limbs protest when I push myself to my knees. My hearing is fuzzy. All I can make out is explosions. Bright lights push their way through my spotty vision. Something had to have happened while I was out. What else could explain the battle that's going on around me? Every blink brings clearer images. The HYDRA base is in flames; matching United States uniforms clashing with green HYDRA ones. The Howling Commandos are badly outnumbered. With Namor being God knows where, the Human Torch and Toro leading another raid, and Bucky being… No. Don't think about it. Get up and fight.

I heave myself to my feet. _Ugh! How does anybody fight when they feel like this?_ Not to mention it's nearly midnight from the looks of it. Maybe later. An explosion close behind me makes me jump. Now is not the time to be standing around. I turn around to see a bright blue ball of energy flying towards my face. Barely able to dodge, I duck. The energy ball sails over my head. _What was that?_ Glancing up, I spot a man running in my direction. _This is going to hurt._ With a heave I send his next blast back at him. Good thing I dodged the first one. The blast disintegrates him. A grimace on my face, I run to a small alcove to get my bearings. Blissfully quiet. No men trying to kill you. Not watching the ground, I trip over someone's foot. Perhaps they are taking a breath too?

"Mmf!" a muffled voice cries.

Okay. Maybe a hostage. I look down to see a seedy man with a wrinkled face and a receding hairline. Definitely a hostage. Arnim Zola's human body. He must have switched bodies back on the train and tried to escape. "You're not going anywhere," I snarl. This man is responsible for the pain he caused Bucky. No way on God's green Earth he's going to get away. He struggles against his bonds. I pull them tighter and kick him for good measure. Then I rejoin the battle. HYDRA agent after HYDRA agent tries to take me out. Each one is met with brute force. Each punch, each shot is for Bucky. In one of their masks I see my face. It makes me pause for a second. A stranger's face replaces my own. Once looked childish, now contorted with rage. Lips pulled up in a snarl like a wild animal's. Eyes have a strange glimmer of anger and pain. Nothing at all like the old me. This Nicolette is ferocious, attacking like a crazed lion. Not caring whether or not the hit killed the person. As far from the original me as we are from Pluto.

Though the new me scares me, she has to stay. She's the only one who can do this without hesitating. So I go back to fighting, taking care to avoid all thoughts on my personality change. That's the easy part. The hard part is keeping her in check. I refuse to kill, and when I am forced to, it hurts. Every time.

The fighting goes on. The moon goes higher and higher in the sky. As time goes on every punch makes me more tired. I can't keep this up much longer. My comrades are getting tired too. It shows. They have long since run out of ammunition. So have I, but I have my powers. They must use fallen agent's weapons. Steve is still like a machine, relentless. Never pausing. After all, he is Bucky's best friend. We fight, and fight, and fight. Just when it seems like it will never end, the number of agents drops. They finally ran out of people. _Yes! We can leave!_

Checkoff drags Zola to our small group. Miraculously no one died. Cleo has a limp, and everybody is covered with bumps and bruises and broken bones, but that's about it. Steve, who managed to keep his radio intact, calls base. They radio back saying they're almost here. Turns out if the battle hadn't ended when it did someone would have picked us up anyway. Though there is no clock or watch, the position of the moon indicates it is long past midnight. Maybe two, three in the morning. I'm exhausted. Hardly able to keep my eyes open. My head droops. I doze off. When our ride comes I'm half asleep. Steve gently leads me toward the aircraft. As soon as I sit down I lean my head against the side and fall asleep.

o8o

_Pigeons please stop that. Wait. Since when do pigeons live in Italy?_ My eyes open to see a middle-aged woman standing in the doorway of a modest house, watching a man and two young children walk away. Tears run down her face. Her hand clutches a small, thin black box. The look on her face would melt the coldest of hearts. Wait a minute. Since when does a black woman marry a white man? The matching rings on their fingers prove that much. And why would they have children? As the children scramble to keep up with their father, the woman leans on the doorframe for support. Perhaps they just had a fight. Then the house becomes blurry, as if the memory was blotted out. What comes up next is odd. The black woman sits at a bar. A blank expression coupled with multiple shot glasses show that she's not doing so well. Must be that fight.

The woman demands drink after drink. It takes many drinks for her to become visibly intoxicated. After that happens she stumbles out to her automobile. She falls asleep inside and stays that way until morning. More blurriness comes. This time it has the woman hugging a little baby boy tightly. An older girl hugs her arm, and what I take to be the oldest is standing a few feet away. Her husband is nowhere to be seen.

"Scotia, look after Dominick. Make sure he doesn't get left behind," she says, her voice cutting through the still air. To the oldest, "Take care of them. Don't stop running until you reach Uncle Scott's house. It will have everything you'll need. If the Skrulls come go to the X-Mansion. You'll be safer there." With tears in her eyes, she concludes, "Daddy and I have to go help the others. Aaron, you're in charge. I love you." With a final watery smile, the woman runs off, her white cape billowing behind her.

Right when I'm about to follow her I wake up. Someone put me in my own bed in the 107. The only light comes from an overhead lantern. It's nighttime. I must have slept through the day and well into the night. Amazing. Still feels like I'm wearing my costume, mask and all. Yes, I am. As I leave my uniform on the floor to be washed, I think about the dream I had. More of a vision, really. The woman seems familiar. But her living situation is completely unheard of. Her children's names sound made-up. And the city she was in…it seemed futuristic. Straight out of a science fiction novel. Obviously there was some sort of war going on. Not to mention her costume: almost like mine, but without the extra pockets and in different shades of purple and white. There is something suspicious about that vision and I want to know what.

Silently I tiptoe over to Steve's bed where there's an alarm clock. 5:00 am. Almost not worth going back to sleep. Instead I sit on the floor and try to work on a board game I've been creating. Before I know it the wake-up call is being blasted. Quickly-well, as quickly as I can considering I'm so sore-I get dressed. Breakfast is scarfed down. After that's done I leave for tutoring. Peggy managed to grab hold of some books. They were probably taken from the HYDRA train. This afternoon is weapons practice. Halfway through it Peggy tells me to watch a recording with the team. Inside the dark tent Phillips sits, along with the Howling Commandos and the Invaders. Even Spitfire, whom I have never met in person. I have to take this opportunity! "Hel-hello," I introduce myself. "My na-name is Freedom Fighter."

"Oh, please," she laughs. "We're all heroes here. Call me Jackie."

I like this woman. "If that's the case, then call me Nikki."

Before I can continue the footage starts. It begins when Jones threw the pick. Steve, Bucky, and I slide to the train. I almost smash into the mountain. Bucky goes to the end of it, Steve ducks in where he is. I plow ahead after a moment's hesitation. The black and white images depict a shovel tossing snow off the side. Then it cuts out for a moment. Several seconds go by before it starts up again. Steve fights a HYDRA agent with amplified flamethrowers. Flames dance across the walls. Steve ducks in and out of cover, so the only thing to be seen is flashes of blue. He takes out the agent, but not before most of the car is burning. He races to the next car. Pausing at the door, he glances through the window. Bucky is struggling to defeat his target. Steve ducks in and tosses him a loaded gun. The agent goes down.

Cameras showing the Commandos follow them as they enter the cars with the information. Not very exciting.

Oh great. That leaves me. Somehow they managed to film me knocking out the driver. Zola makes a move on me, but I counter. Me destroying the controls earns some glares. Spitfire just chuckles a little. I tie Zola up and try to fix the controls. I decide it's useless and go to the platform connecting the cars. It cuts to a side view. The car Bucky is in shakes. One side blows off. Shortly after Bucky falls, screaming. His body rolls in the air, finally bouncing off some rocks at the bottom. My mouth opens in a scream. Sweat drips down my face from the huge effort of slowing the train. My muscles strain against the tight fabric. Slowly I kneel to the floor. My teeth clenched, I fall backwards.

Now begins the parts I was unconscious for. Zola manages to break his bonds. He grins maniacally, flexing his arms. Stooping, he comes back into view holding my limp body. He cackles and throws me over one shoulder. Then he works until we reach the base. Zola jumps off the train, dropping my body as he does so. That explains my position. Steve and the Commandos sneak out, already lobbing grenades. HYDRA agents pour out of the base. Some sidestep my unconscious frame. Others just run over it. The Commandos meet fire with fire, and Steve is more machine than man. Explosions rock the ground, some near my body. Dirt flies everywhere. Some settles on my costume. Blue becomes gray, red becomes brown, and white becomes black.

Though my teammates fight diligently, they slowly get overwhelmed. Agents just don't stop coming. Still they persevere. The battle drags on. When I wake up the ground is covered with craters. Crumbling walls of the castle don't stop the enemy. The view shows me starting to move. Twitches at first, then full limbs. Slowly I get up. Disorientated, I account my bearings and join the turmoil. An overhead shot shows Zola sneaking into the corner, myself soon following. Dernier had tied and gagged him; Zola is stuck there. Then I come into the picture. Time goes past, only I noticing the kick. By then it is obvious we changed. Steve and I both. More and more people go down. Almost like crazed killers, we bop from person to person, knocking them out with more force than is necessary. I hope Phillips doesn't see that as a bad thing. The movie ends when the plane arrives.

Phillips stands up and turns around slowly. "So," he begins, "this footage proves how harsh war is. Captain Rodgers is already our golden boy, but maybe this will convince the younger population to take a more active part. Seeing Miss Storm getting beat will show its true horrors. Because there is nothing more horrible than a child at war. Otherwise good job, people. HYDRA is almost out of bases. But a new threat has popped on the radar: A.I.M. We don't know much about them, but Intel says they're secretly at war with HYDRA. Hitler's backing HYDRA. They're already bent on world dominion, but with A.I.M. in the picture, it will speed up. Our goal is to eliminate A.I.M. before the problems grow bigger. Study up on your individual missions. Dismissed."


	3. Doomed

**Doomed**

So now we have to deal with two criminal organizations. Twice the amount of missions and destruction. If I don't get a full night's sleep soon I will lose what's left of my sanity. And it's only been two months since my arrival. Most have been here for almost a year and look at them. I leave the tent. Jackie stops me just outside the mess hall. She asks how a child was accepted into the military. "I'm not entirely sure," I answer. "I think because of my powers. You might want to check my file." It's something I don't understand. I should ask Steve why I'm not allowed to read my own file. It can't be that bad. The only thing that stands out is the…events at the orphanage. A bit on the small side, underweight. All replaced with what feels like muscle.

Anyway, I drop off my rifle at weapons and head for dinner. A.I.M. is the buzz throughout. Toro thought it important to spread the word. At first all is fine, but then someone says only those with powers or-in Steve's case-special abilities will be extracting revenge. That does not sit well with the others. Everybody's been itching for payback, and their first chance in a long time, they can't. Dirty looks are shot my way all evening. My team too, but mostly me. Don't tell me there's still prejudice.

Sick of it, I leave the hall and go to my bunker. At least here it's quiet. I read the briefing, study the pictures. Find out as much as I can about A.I.M. Stare at the empty beds. While everybody is out roaming the streets of the nearest city, I lay on my bed, alternating between my notebook and Bucky's empty bed. Nothing remains. His clothes have been donated; any personal items went to his family or Steve. Hard to believe he's really gone. And that it's all my fault. If I hadn't taken so long, or destroyed the controls… _Agh!_

After my outburst I cry myself to sleep. Time passes quickly during my individual missions. Weeks after the assignments, Steve pulls me aside during showers. He tells me to put on my nicest clothing. Then he goes to an empty shower. _Does that mean anything? _I go to an empty stall and take off the SSR shirt and camouflage pants and take a quick shower. When I finish I go back to the 107 building and find my nicest dress. Given as a condolence gift from Bucky's family. The spring green fabric was meant to complement my features. I tie my hair back with a green ribbon. Search for the red heels Agent Carter gave me several weeks ago. Don't know why. Despite the pretty clothes, I still look depressed. Ever since Bucky departed Steve has grown more distant. I have too, I suppose. Those fatherly actions had to mean something. Now I'll never have the chance to figure out what.

I leave to give Steve some time to change. Soldiers run about in street clothes. Tonight is the first night in ages we're allowed in town without permission. Of course people are taking advantage of it. I planned on staying, enjoying the peace and quiet. Nary a ride anyway. I pause at the worn dirt path that surrounds camp. Still used for speed and endurance lessons, it makes a loop several paces away from a thin tree line. Dust billows around my feet with every step. Small particles settle on my shoes. A bird, a raven, I believe, lands on my shoulder. I stroke its feathers.

"Hi, Nikki." Steve's voice scares the bird away. When I turn around, "You look nice." He's wearing a button-down shirt and dress pants.

"And you as well." My voice sounds weary. Whatever he plans on doing, it better be worth it.

"Listen, we're going out, and we would like you to come with us. Please?"

I really have no intention of leaving, but Steve is taking Bucky's absence hard. Harder than me. Refusing would hurt him even more. "I will," I say after a pause. "Lead the way." I am lead to a group of soldiers dressed in their finest. We all pile into military vehicles. Upon our arrival some head straight for a pub. I stay with those who decide to sightsee. Jackie desperately tries to make me laugh. Eventually it works. Her crazy and lighthearted personality is infectious. Everywhere we go citizens salute us; soon she has me saluting back. Giggling like a little girl too. In a bakery I make her laugh so hard she knocks over a bread stand. As we duck to pick them up Jackie raises her eyebrows, impersonating Namor. I collapse, I'm laughing so much. And to think I wanted to stay at home.

However inviting the streets of Italy may be, we still have to go to the pub. Being July 12, most bars have independence-themed deals going on. The candles are dimmed upon our arrival. Before I can ask what's going on, a large cake is brought out. Nine candles burn brightly. Purple icing spells out _Happy Birthday Nicolette!_ The rest of it resembles an American flag. _Why did they do this?_

Choruses of the Happy Birthday song ring about. "Congratulations," Steve smiles, holding up the cake so I can blow out the candles.

I do so to applause. I cut it and pass around pieces. _How did I forget my own birthday? Come of it, if I wasn't in the army, I wouldn't remember the Fourth of July either. _For the longest time all I've focused on are my missions. Since I'm more powerful than some of the others Phillips gave me harder ones. No time left to think of trivial things like special events. It does a mighty fine job of cheering me up though. As the night wears on we become wilder. Drunken singing rings through the building. Dancing, too. I take a sip of my drink. It doesn't taste like water. I glance down. _Ah, that makes sense._ The liquid isn't the slightly diluted water I was drinking before; it's the brownish-red of Italian wine. That's all I need to lose whatever common sense remains. The owner eventually throws us out the door. Military or not, we must go home. We stumble to the cars and hope the drivers aren't too intoxicated. Peggy does her best to lead us to the correct bunker, but she gives up after awhile. I end up sleeping on the floor of the 102.

The next day our normal schedule restarts. Week after week it's the same thing: destroy HYDRA and A.I.M. and Nazi bases. Not boring, mind you, just annoying. Finally, many weeks after my birthday, Phillips calls Toro, Steve, and I down to meet him. He explains we have to stop a HYDRA nuclear missile from being launched on America. The Human Torch and Spitfire are taking care of other leads. Cap, Toro, and I will work on the missile.

"You get me?" Phillips finishes.

"Yes sir!" we answer in unison.

"We're doomed," Toro adds in a whisper after we turn around to leave. His face falls.

"Come on. Have some faith in our team." I try to cheer him up. There is a valid reason behind his lack of optimism. He is an orphan too, but not by abandonment. His parents were spies, sent to Hitler by the SSR. Sent to keep tabs on the future Red Skull. They gave valuable information, but eventually they were discovered. Even the army couldn't reach them in time. Doctor Erskine was beginning to recruit a team for the newly created Human Torch, and the grief stricken, super powered Toro seemed a perfect match. They got hold of Union Jack, convinced Namor, and discovered Whizzer and Miss America. And so the Invaders were born. Cap and Bucky joined shortly before Union Jack died. Not even a year later I came along. The awe-inspiring Freedom Fighter.

Toro ignores my comment. He's too upset to think positively right now. Maybe later. I leave for the barracks to change into my costume, everything but the cowl. Then I go to weapons and grab my pistols. Hopefully I won't have to use them. I joke around with the Commandos for a bit. We enter the plane laughing. All tension disappears, at least for the ride. But as Steve pulls on a parachute, it returns. Dread. The fear that we may never return. It's valid. The Red Skull is more powerful than ever. Only Steve is allowed to take him on. Like that's going to stop me. I plan on fighting during my final breath if that's what it takes. If I go down, I go down swinging.

A noticeable shudder runs through the Commandos. We're about to jump. "Good luck," Falsworth tells us. "You'll need it." His words ring true, but they're not meant to comfort. They're meant to help us face reality.

We jump. Wind blows through my hair, under my cowl, making my ponytail billow out behind me. Toro bursts into flame. Steve pulls the string on his parachute. I surround myself with a layer of energy that lets me float gently to the ground. Toro flies right in. I pause for a moment, watching our last chance to escape fly away. Then I rush to catch up. Inside the base Steve goes one direction, fueled by a fierce determination. I run another. Toro stays in the air. Surprisingly not many agents roam the hallways. Sometimes I have to flatten myself into the shadows, but that's about it. Odd.

That can't be said about farther in. agents stand everywhere. A few almost catch me. Pressed against a wall, I try to think of something to help me. _Come on, Nikki, think. What might work?_ My heart beats faster with fear. _Don't get scared. Think of everything. It can be anything, as long as it works. There has to be something… Wait! Would this…_ I dig around in a pouch on my right arm, pulling out four small suction cups. While preparing for the mission I saw them lying there and grabbed them. Intended for a replica of my latest invention. Perhaps it was fate that gave them to me today. Anyway, I pull out a small canteen of water and a keg of gunpowder. Carefully I sprinkle some powder in the cups. Same with the water. The result: a sticky mush capable of supporting a body.

_I hope this works._ Slowly I stick them to my boots and gloves; climb up the wall at the same speed. Inch by inch, quickening as I get used to it. _It works! I can't believe it actually works! Three cheers to Nicolette, the future world-class inventor!_ Sneaking past the agents is no problem. Like sneaking in to read my file at the orphanage. Boy, have I come a long way since then. Before I was living on the streets, just discovering my supernatural abilities. Terrified that no one would ever want me. Then Steve came, recruited me. Him and Bucky are the closest thing I have to a family. Bucky acting as a father, Steve as a kindly older brother. And now that Bucky is gone, all that disappeared. Now it's just Steve. Toro has been a great friend, but he can't replace Bucky. No one can.

"-the Americans."

The Americans? Spoken by a creepy voice? Can't be good.

His fellow agent nods. "Captain America is invading our weapons labs. Toro is staying out of our range. How infuriating."

"What about the girl?"

"Ah, yes. The 'Freedom Fighter.' Her whereabouts are unknown."

If only I could tell them how wrong they are! I almost do. But their conversation bores me, even though it pertains to us. So I move on. Eventually the water dries and I have to jump down before I fall. I land in front of an opening showing a huge weapons area. This must be what the agents were talking about. From where I stand, I can see Steve fighting off hordes of agents. He's doing fine, so I move on. I find a room filled with shelves lined with books. Sort of like a library, I guess. It has to be filled with important information. Definitely worth a look.

I was right! Paging through a randomly selected volume, I discover it's filled with detailed diagrams. Most are of something labeled as "The Tessaract." Whatever it is, it can't be beneficial. I've seen pictures during briefings, and from what I understand, it's a weapon of the gods. Norse gods, to be exact. Hopefully Steve or Toro will manage to find the Tessaract and destroy it. Me? I have my sights set on the Red Skull.

Though the library holds a wealth of knowledge, I leave. But not before stuffing a few diagrams in a pouch. They might come in handy later. After perusing the base for a bi, a HYDRA henchman comes running past clutching a small blue cube. It matches the drawings on the papers I "borrowed." That can only mean one thing: they're readying the missile! We're not ready to destroy it yet! Steve is mobbed; Toro kept busy by turrets and any outside troopers. I'm the only person available. They may not approve, but in the end, it will be overshadowed by our accomplishment. No harm done. So I bolt after my target. He has a minute's head start, and I'm not very fast. Hopefully I can catch up to him.

Throughout the castle alarms are ringing. Creeper after creeper run past. Some are like the flamethrower agent from the train. Others sport cannons brimming with blue energy. And yet more carry tanks filled with green liquid. When a more powerful one stomps past I try to take them out. The most effective way is to create a dome around their heads. If done correctly it will cut off their air supply. I keep chasing the Tessaract carrier. He sprints to a huge landing area. I follow him onto a plane that's more advanced than anything I've ever seen before. For a few seconds I stare in amazement. A sense of shock pours into my mind, making me focus. The Tessaract is my target.

"Kerr Amriqi!" he shouts.

"Sorry, pal. I don't speak English," I quip, breathing heavily. Flashbacks to my first mission almost distract me. I almost died on that mission. If I were superstitious I would call it I would call it a bad omen. But I'm not.

Mr. Cube, as I mentally christened him, pulls out a gun. He says something in German again while shooting. With great difficulty I jump and dive to avoid getting hit. Panting, I stand up and pull out a pistol. Then I shoot his shoulder. After a quick roundhouse to the head, Mr. Cube collapses near the plane's exit. I kick him to the ground. He falls to the pavement in a heap. Now that my current worry is gone, I have time to explore. Clutching my hip to relieve the side sticker, still panting, I open a metal door and widen my eyes.

Futuristic machines are everywhere. Some glow and flash pale blue light, others emit beeping noises. One that seems to be half-finished hums. A compartment connected to the end has a small indentation large enough for a small cube. The Tesseract? I hope not. Moving on, I go into a different room that looks like the bridge. A very high-tech gun looms in the corner, threatening to shoot anyone unwanted. On the far wall, just above a desk, a huge painting hangs. In the dark I can't see much, but what I can makes me do a double take. Bright red where the head should be indicates it's the Red Skull. Wow. How can anybody be that self-obsessed? Almost as bad as the one senator who first tried to promote Steve. Going closer to the floor-to-ceiling windows, I sit down at his desk and start filing through orderly drawers. Anything of importance I try to commit to memory. I'm doing fine until footsteps echo across the room. Whipping my head frantically searching for a hiding spot, I see nothing. Everything is too thin, too small. With no time to lose, I run to an arch. I boost myself to the ceiling and hang on like my life depends on it. It does.

Before I finish climbing, Red Skull enters. His face is twice as red as usual. He's muttering to himself, something about invasion. I flash back to Bucky for a minute. Whenever he got angry, he would act the same way. Tears well in my eyes. I blink them away before they can fall. No emotions at all. I grasp the beam a bit tighter and tune in.

"The Americans will pay for this with their lives," he murmurs. "No one will foil my plan. The missile will fall New York, and then, the world!" An evil laugh escapes his lips. Shmidt stares at his portrait for a few seconds, then walks to his desk. He's about to sit down when he pauses. Squinting, he plucks something of his chair. _What could it be?_ Whatever it is, he sets the invisible object on the desk and paces the room, his head turned upward. When he's a few feet away from my arch I breathe louder. The opposite of what I should do. I end up holding my breath to stay quiet. Peering up, he almost spots me pressing myself into the shadows. I pull my hair behind me. My hands start to slip and my fingers loosen. I'm slowly sliding off. Finally my fingers unclench, and I begin to fall.

At the very moment I slip taps against the metal door draw Shmidt's attention away from me. His back is turned when I become visible. Panicking, I manage to twist a hand and create and airborne net. The net itself makes no noise, but a small whimper escapes my lips. The Skull's head turns, and I cover my mouth with a hand. _Must stay silent! One more slip and I'm dead._ This spot is no good; my hands are shaking too much to hold on. Quickly and quietly I lower myself to the floor. Then I run to the desk. Holding my knees to my chest, I watch two HYDRA agents drag a third man in. Who could it be?

"Captain. I know you and your 'Invaders' destroyed our bases. I know you captured that blubbering Arnim Zola. I know you think the information you stole hindered us. Tell me, Captain, why the SSR believes they stand a chance against us."

_Captain? Captain, as in Steve? No!_

At Steve's insufficient answer, Shmidt hits him upside the head. "I could do this all day," Steve says.

"I believe you, my dear Captain. But you see, I am on a schedule."

Everything begins to shake. Walls rattle, weapons rock. Having nothing to hold on to, I curl up in a ball. _What's happening!_ The walls shake some more, and then stop. From what I can see we're in the air. Somehow flying. How this thing floats…that would be an interesting thing to study. If not for the SSR, then at least for my own inventions. I can't even feel us moving. Neat.

Suddenly HYDRA agents come in, toting guns. "Hail HYDRA!" they chant. All I can see is their feet, so I cautiously stick my eyes above the desk. Most tote normal guns. A few carry flamethrowers. All are murderous. It's obvious even without my special abilities. Red Skull barks at them to take down Steve in German. They get into formation. They're about to fire when one shouts, "The Freedom Fighter! She is here!"

Darn it. They found me. There is no use trying to hide now. I jump up, having regained most of my energy, and I quip, "Look what you've done. Almost forgot to start without me." I punch the man across the room and sock the guy next to me on the jaw. Immediately guns are pointed at me. My comment seems to have angered some, others are amused. Either way, triggers are pulled. I leap off the desk. Steve breaks his bonds and joins the fray. I bound across the room and throw Steve's shield to him, which rests against the wall. He catches it just in time to block a blow. I push off the wall to force an energy blast back to its sender. Shmidt takes post behind a large gun fueled by the Tesseract. Stationary, ready to shoot should his soldiers fail. Oh, they will.

A shot flies towards me so fast I have to duck. Flattening on the ground, I look up to see an agent looming over me. He places a booted foot on my back, preventing me from standing up. Then a fist connects with the back of my head. "Excuse me," I comment, "did anyone ever teach you it's not acceptable to hit a girl?" I twist around to display a sweet smile. Without further ado, I shoot him. He staggers backwards. A final kick and he's down for the count. One pistol is out of ammo; the other's remaining bullets are used up quickly. Not enough time to reload. Time to move on to good old-fashioned martial arts. I don't trust myself with my powers anymore, not with my faltering strength. I end up back-to-back with Steve.

"I thought I told you to stay away from here!"

"You're welcome, by the way."

"Thank you. I thought I told you to stay away from here!"

"Later you'll forgive me. All this information, you know you want it. Besides, how could I pass something like this up? Look around. This thing is an engineering marvel."

"I know that. Just finish up and help Toro or something."

I know, he says. Go help Toro, he says. Like that's going to happen. Nothing will make me leave this aircraft. I jump over a body and take out a flamethrower. Flamethrowers may be powerful, but they're slow. Clunky. Not good for close combat against a much more agile child. I easily dive between his legs and break the fuel canister. The blue fluid spills, some on me, most in him. That was easy. I pause for a second, beginning to feel overwhelmed. There's no way I can go on much longer. I'm exhausted. I rest against a wall. With hardly enough time to catch my breath, a clicking noise behind me makes me spin around. Only enough time to throw up a shield. It worked! I drop my hands to my sides. One brushes against something warm and sticky. The white glove is stained red. My hand goes in past my skin. _Did it work?_ Finally I dare to look down. The warm, rust-scented fluid is my blood. Pouring silently out my side, down my leg, pooling on the floor. No hope of slowing down. Red splatters everywhere, including my boot and leg. I stagger backwards and the world goes black.

Why is there blood in my mouth? Tastes like rust. And why is it all over my right side? Did I do something? I force my eyes open. Mostly dried blood surrounds my body, covering the steel floor. Some coats my hair, making it unnaturally red. I move my head a fraction of an inch to see a disgusting side wound. Scabs formed around the edges. The center is still a deep molten red. It's a wonder I haven't bled to death. Moving makes it burn like it's on fire. _Baby steps. Lay on your stomach. Easy… Get on your hands and knees. Ouch! Slower. Crouch first. Slowly stand up. Don't overdo it. That's it._ Talking to myself like this lets me stand up, at least hunched over. Blood trickles out. I hobble over to the wall. What I see is terrible. Steve, Captain America, is facing off against the Red Skull. And losing. Badly.


	4. Entry

**Entry**

He's beat up, bleeding, bruised. Red Skull seems to be getting stronger. Each punch that lands sends an unspoken message: I am better than you. Surely you must realize that? How on Earth can one man be that strong? Oh. The faint blue glow around him…it has to be the Tesseract. No longer connected to the gun, all its energy is directed at Shmidt. If that's the case, we're doomed. Steve won't last much longer. I'm of no use, since the slightest movement makes my side erupt in pain. Unless… Maybe I'm not totally useless. Artificial adrenaline rush. It's worth a shot. I close my eyes and bring back bad memories. Growing up worthless. Bullying. Killing. Bucky's death. Leading soldiers on a suicide mission. Seconds later, hardened, docile Nicolette is gone. Tough, aggressive Freedom Fighter comes out. Able to find the strength to stand up straight, even walk, I slink closer to the battle. When the opportunity arises, I strike.

Caught unaware, Shmidt stumbles backward a few steps. A start. He recovers quickly. I move into a defensive position. Shmidt glances at Steve. My eyes follow. He's desperately trying to stand up. But my brain is only capable of one thought. I jump on the Skull and furiously kick him. He tries to pull me off, but my fingers are curled tight. If he goes down, I'm coming with him. Every kick is met with a satisfying thud. Maybe some left a bruise. I get sick of the kicking, so I spin around to his front, head-butting his face. If at all possible, his face gets redder. It resembles a station wagon.

A terrifying laugh escapes my lips. In the back of my mind, what little of Nicolette remains cowers, orders me to stop. Says my viciousness isn't necessary. That the beating Shmidt is receiving is uncalled for. Freedom Fighter says every punch, every blow, is needed. That my torn and bloody knuckles symbolize that. The blows are well deserved, even the nasty ones. The conflicting personalities, almost too much to bear… _Rargh! Shut up and fight! Don't let him gather his bearings. Push forward! _With a wild snarl, I lunge out at Shmidt, ready to bite his face off. Perhaps literally. Freedom Fighter is more of a soldier than Nicolette will ever be. Phillips would be proud. Bucky? Not so much. _Wait, what are you doing, thinking about Bucky? No! Not acceptable! Intolerable!_

Red Skull must be top priority. My attack isn't blocked at all. A powerful kick sends me flying across the room. I catch myself, sliding against the cool steel floor. Wow. I never knew I could do that. Propelling myself forward, I go in for an uppercut. Instead of my small fist, a large red one connects. Since when could I do that? _Since now. Keep at it. Don't let him get the upper hand._ I deliver a flurry of punches. I focus entirely on my attack. In the background I see Steve is up, watching the fight. Probably letting me prove myself. Good. Let him take notice of the new and improved Nicolette Storm.

I pull back my fist, but stop inches from his face. Something warm and liquidy is pouring down my leg. _What?_ Blinking, I look down. Freedom Fighter retreats. Once again, my blood isn't where it belongs. I back off. Steve will deal with the Skull. Shmidt does not like that. He easily knocks me down and keeps me there. With all the ferocity gone, there's no fight left. I give up on standing and focus on breathing and staying awake. It's draining enough as it is. Against my will my eyelids close. Every so often I force them open to see how Cap is faring. Maybe I actually did help. Shmidt seems weaker. More…beat up. Perhaps my attack wasn't completely useless. Freedom Fighter would be proud. My brain demands an escape from the pain. I let it for a few minutes.

o8o

The room is quiet. Too quiet. No moving, shuffling, nothing. An eye cracks open to check. The room is empty. I glance at everything in my line of sight. Still nothing. I move my head. Still nada. I heave myself to my feet, take baby steps, attempt to figure out what happens. The Red Skull is nowhere to be seen. Neither is Steve. Wait. Red boots stick out from underneath the control panel. "Steve?" I choke out, my throat sore from animalistic snarling. No answer. "Steve?"

His voice comes from the panel. "Right here, Nikki. Just trying to repair this communicator radio thing."

"What about the Skull?"

"Oh, he won't be bothering us anytime soon. Not with what we did to HYDRA. And that beating you gave him? I almost felt sorry for the guy."

A thin etch of a smile comes as Steve crawls back out. Though his voice sounds almost cheerful, his face is lined with worry. Something must be wrong. My wound, perhaps? I sink into a chair. My, does it feel dandy to sit down. The short trip from where I rested against a wall to the controls took whatever energy I regained. This gaping whole, if not treated soon, will turn deadly. I can feel it killing me now. Steve bends down to inspect it. The worry lines grow deeper the more he notices: the blood covering my right half, the dirt and gashes covering my uniform, my chalky white skin. I know this much blood loss is a problem on it's own. "Please, don't worry about me right now. You have bigger problems."

"The radio is as fixed as it's going to be." Steve obeys and sits in the pilot's seat. Still looking at me with concern every so often, he programs the communicator with HQ's coordinates. Agent Carter answers right away. "Peggy, there's no place to land this thing before we reach New York."

Her voice crackles. "Captain Rodgers, there is no need for that kind of talk. Just send us your coordinates and we'll find you a safe place to land."

This goes on for a while. Convincing each other that they're right. All the while my fear grows. Steve is right; he's going to sacrifice us to save the Eastern Seaboard. Finally Peggy gives up. She settles for comforting us, my presence having been brought up. If not for my exhaustion I would be in a complete panic. _Which will I die of first? Blood loss or hypothermia? _Our impending doom comes closer. Now I know what Toro meant at the very beginning, before we even left for the mission. This is what he felt.

"Steve," Peggy says as the craft moves ever closer to the water, "I love you. I wish I could have all eternity with you. Especially you, Nikki. We could understand each other so much better. I-"

Peggy never finishes. At that moment we sink into the icy cold depths of the Artic Ocean. One last moment of bravery before the unforgiving ocean claims two more victims. Captain America and Freedom Fighter will never fight again.


End file.
